


the things i left behind (they never left me)

by desitonystark



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Erik Killmonger Lives, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Black Panther (2018)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desitonystark/pseuds/desitonystark
Summary: 26 years ago, Erik Stevens walked out of their shared apartment and Tony's life forever. He doesn't expect a chance to make amends for his father's part in stealing Vibranium from Wakanda to be how Erik re-enters it.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	the things i left behind (they never left me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angxlsgrxce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angxlsgrxce/gifts).



_1991, MIT, Cambridge_

The boy is just shy of nineteen. It is an age far too young to know immeasurable loss, to know the kind of pain that seeps under the crevices of your bones and burrows a home there, never leaving, never fading.

The boy is just shy of nineteen. It is an age far too young to feel like your world has shifted on its axis, that everybody you have ever loved, is suddenly out of your reach.

The boy is just shy of nineteen. It is an age far too young to be wrapped around a bottle, attaching his mouth to the rim of the bottle like a baby would attach itself to a mother's nipple.

“You’re really leaving then?” he croaks, a wet and slurred sound, “I buried my parents yesterday, and you’re just leaving?”

“Sweetheart I -”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that.”

“I have to leave. I don’t have a choice. If it was different, I would stay with you in a heartbeat.”

The boy scoffs, but it comes off as more of a sob, “I literally own the military. Don’t give me that bullshit. If you wanted to stay, all you had to do was ask, and I could make it happen. I made it happen for Rhodey didn’t I?”

If he looked up, he would see the way the man he’s talking to bristles, the way his face contorts into one of fury and jealousy, before righting itself into a blank expression.

He doesn’t see any of this.

“I don’t see why you need me then, if you’ve got Rhodey. I don’t - don’t make that face, I don’t mean it like that, I just mean you won’t be alone is all. I have to go, tell me you understand.”

A hand reaches out for him, a familiar gesture to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, but he flinches; shifting away and out of reach.

“I don’t,” he says woodenly, “but I’m not about to get on my knees and beg you to stay. I have more dignity than that.”

In front of him, the man sighs, and there’s a rustle as he bends down and swings his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“The minute I can apply for leave, I’ll come see you. I promise.”

“No,” the boy’s voice wobbles, but he lifts his gaze, just enough to convey how serious he is, “No if you leave, if you walk out that door. This, _us,_ it’s over. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you, I don’t even want to breathe the same air as you.”

He takes in a shuddering breath, “if you can’t be fucked to stay, I sure as hell don’t want you coming back when it’s convenient.”

“I have to go,” the man says again helplessly, but it is in vain, because the boy’s gaze has fallen again. He fits his mouth over the glass bottle he’s cradling in his hands and throws his head back; barely wincing at the way the liquid burns down his throat.

He hears the door open, and then shut quietly with a snick, and idly wonders how his life came to this.

//

_2018, United Nations, Vienna_

“Mr. Stark,” T’Challa says neutrally, hours after he’s announced his intention to open up Wakanda to the rest of the world, “I didn’t expect to see you here. So soon after…”

His voice trails off, as though suddenly remembering where they were. It is a courtesy that Tony is grateful for, which is why he tries his best attempt at a smile.

“I wasn’t going to miss this,” he replies, “Wakanda opening up it’s borders? That’s like softcore porn for me. I’ve heard great things about your sister, thought I might throw in my hat for a possible exchange of information.”

“Somehow, a Stark interested in vibranium and Wakandan technology doesn’t surprise me,” T’Challa’s voice is dry, and while Tony doesn’t think he means anything by it, the same cannot be said for the woman standing to his right - who flairs her nostrils in a derisive snort.

“I’m glad you brought that up,” he says gamely, resolutely ignoring the way T’Challa’s right hand woman seems to puff up her chest, “It was remiss of me to not reach out sooner, see if there was some way to mend what my father broke.”

“I have the shield in the Compound, if you’d like the vibranium returned to you. It’s not everything he helped Klaue steal, but it’s what I’ve got on hand.”

“You mean Captain America’s shield?” T’Challa raises an eyebrow, “I was, not aware that the Captain was in the habit of parting with it.”

_That shield doesn’t belong to you, you don’t deserve it! My father made that shield!_

Tony’s hands reach up to rub at his chest, a move that doesn’t go missed by any of the Wakandans standing in front of him.

His lips stretch to reveal his teeth, but it isn’t a smile. It’s more of a grimace. “Let’s just say that I’m convincing when I want to be.”

He can tell that T’Challa wants to press, to ask more questions, but for whatever reason, he holds his tongue.

“It is a gesture of goodwill, for you to offer me the shield that represents so much to you and your country,” T’Challa says instead, “and it is a gesture that I will not soon forget. However, if you truly want to make it up to me and my country, I do have another in mind. In fact, had you not approached me, I would’ve come to you myself.”

“I’m listening.”

“Recently, my country has gone through some changes, as you heard when I stood on the podium today. Let us say that unexpected people have found their way to Wakanda, and I would ask your assistance in aiding one such person.”

Tony stiffens at that. “I have sent your sister all my notes on B.A.R.F,” he says coldly, “I don’t know what more you expect from me.”

“No I don’t mean Sergeant Barnes,” if it’s possible, T’Challa looks contrite, “I was made aware of your history. For all your father’s faults, I would not have you rehabilitate his killer. This is not what I ask of you.”

His brow furrows, “then who?”

“Perhaps it is better I show you.”

//

_2018, Mount Bashenga, Wakanda_

It’s a testament to Tony’s restraint that he doesn’t openly gape as they walk through Shuri’s workshop. He isn’t boastful, but he knows that his workspaces are some of the most high tech ones out there. This though, this is beyond anything he could’ve ever imagined.

Something catches his eye and he turns, watching with fascination as a suit modulates itself on a plastic mannequin. 

“You figured out nanotech?” he turns to the sixteen year old with barely disguised glee, “I’m still a couple months away from a completely work-able model.”

“That is to be expected, coloniser,” Shuri says with a sniff, and idly, Tony wonders how much of an offence it would be to file adoption papers.

“You can look over my notes later though,” she continues, in a softer tone, “there’s still a couple of kinks I need to work out, and perhaps I could benefit from a pair of fresh eyes.”

“You want my help?” Tony asks, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice, “Princess no offence, but I don't know how useful I’m going to be. I’m smart sure but,” he whistles lowly, “this is something else kid.”

“Our guest says that you are the smartest person he’s ever met,” she says ‘ _guest’_ with an inflection, as if it isn’t the right word, but she isn’t sure what is either, “and I’m inclined to believe him. Besides, I’ve read your research papers Doctor Stark. Some of this stuff was inspired by it.”

Tony feels giddy, “no this is - I don’t have to know what you have going on here to know that I would never be able to reach these heights. This is, _you_ are the future,” he says with no small amount of awe.

Shuri preens in front of him, and it makes her look shockingly young. He’s more focused, however, on the way T’Challa’s bodyguard (who’s name he’s since learnt is Okoye) relaxes her lips ever so slightly, unpursing them.

Small victories and all that.

“I already knew that,” Shuri says with a sniff, tilting her head up, in a move that Tony has seen enough times in the mirror to know it’s posturing, “there isn’t a place in the world that’s as advanced as this.”

“No there isn't,” he agrees, and he watches Shuri let out a breath he doesn’t even think she knew he was holding.

“Enough chit chat,” Okoye barks, “Mr. Stark is here for one purpose only, and it’s not to look at proprietary Wakandan tech. N’Jadaka should be coming up soon.”

Tony wants to ask who N’Jadaka is, but there’s something about the way both Shuri and Okoye hold themselves at the sound of his name that makes him think the question won’t be welcome.

So he stays silent. He’ll find out soon enough anyway.

A couple of minutes later, which Tony passes by rocking back and forth on his heels, one of the jets that Tony recognises from when he entered Wakanda’s airspace shows up just outside the workshop. Shuri reaches for the beads on her wrist - _Kimoyo beads,_ T’Challa had called them when he asked - and the glass shudders and disappears, letting the jet in.

There’s two figures inside the jet, and while the glass is tinted and Tony can’t make out their faces, he can tell that one of them is shackled. There’s something familiar about the man in shackles, but the metal around his neck is pulling his head down; and Tony cannot see any further.

The jet opens soundlessly, in a way that makes Tony oddly miss the familiar sounds of american planes; and the two figures step out. Or rather, the pilot steps out, and she wraps her arms around the shackled man to haul him out of the jet; giving him no more than a couple of seconds to land on his feet before she’s tugging at his chains.

They start walking towards the trio, the pilot in long strides and the man shuffling behind her, but it’s only when he lifts his head to turn to Shuri that Tony realises _why_ he looks so familiar.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks empathetically, but the man’s focus isn’t on him - it’s on Shuri.

“Hey little sis,” he says with a sneer, his lips twisted in an expression that haunts Tony’s dreams, “I heard you called for me?”

“Something like that,” Shuri says stiffly, “Brother thinks that it’s time you be reintroduced to polite society. I’m here to make that easier.”

“Actually,” her tongue flits out, “that’s not completely true.”

She gestures at Tony, and Tony lifts his head to meet the steely gaze of eyes he’s not seen in 26 years, “ _He’s_ here to make that easier.”

“Tony,” Erik says, and his face falls into one of anguish for a slight second, before he re-arranges it into something more blank, “you - you look good.”

“Erik,” Tony returns with what he hopes is a neutral tone, “you’ve seen better days.” He gestures at the chains, but Erik has already looked past him and shifted his focus onto Okoye.

It shouldn’t burn, being dismissed so easily, but his emotions have never been logical.

“So this is T’Challa’s big plan?” he asks thunderously, “he thinks he can soften me up by bringing me a white boy I fucked almost two decades ago? He’s going to have to do better than that.

Shuri blinks, as does the woman who flew the jet that brought Erik here and Tony realises with slight horror that they hadn’t been made aware of Tony’s past with Erik. 

Okoye on the other hand, doesn’t react at all, and smoothly replies, “the King thought you might benefit from a friendly face, a familiar face. Mr Stark approached us at the United Nations earlier this month, wanting to make amends for the vibranium that his father helped Klaue steal.”

“So he’s an indentured servant,” Erik surmises with a grimace, “surprised you haven’t outfitted him with pretty metal the way you have me. Then we could be a matched pair.”

He turns to Tony with a lascivious smile, “you did always like the couple's costumes for Halloween, didn’t you sweetheart?”

“I’m here as a favour to the King,” Tony says stiffly, ignoring the _sweetheart,_ “I didn’t even know you were going to be here.” _Or that you were Wakandan,_ he adds silently.

There’s a moment, when he thinks Erik’s face falls, as if Erik was expecting that Tony had volunteered himself for this, but Tony blinks and it’s gone.

“So, what are you supposed to be? My buddy? Like in elementary? We gonna hold hands and ride off to the sunset? How does this thing work?”

If Okoye is surprised that Erik is giving in so easily, she doesn’t show it. She also deigns to respond to Erik, as if she had used up her allotted set of words towards him for the day.

Tony thinks about the way Shuri called him a _guest,_ even though Erik calls her _little sis,_ and wonders whether his tongue will be cut off for asking what the history is there.

“I don’t actually know what this entails,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I haven’t even agreed to it yet. All T’Challa said was that it was better I see for myself in person, who I was being asked to rehabilitate before I agreed.”

“So now that you’ve seen me,” Erik ducks his head, “what’s the verdict?”

Tony should say no, should turn on his heel and walk away from Erik, the same way Erik did all those years ago. But he can’t, he’s frozen in place. Under the chains, under the bluster and the bite, Tony can see how sunken Eric’s eyes are, how his gait is considerably slower, how he looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.

The most logical explanation is that they’ve been hurting him, that they’ve been starving him, and yet somehow - Tony doesn’t think that’s the case. Which means Erik has been starving _himself,_ been hurting himself wherever it is that they’re keeping him. 

Suddenly, the fact that T’Challa wanted a familiar face, someone that Erik trusts, makes a lot more sense.

Not that Tony thinks that Erik trusts him, but he supposes, that there is some inherent trust that resides in the person you once used to regularly fuck.

“I’ll let you know,” Tony says eventually, even though he already knows the answer is yes, “I have to talk to T’Challa first.”

He turns to Okoye before Erik can reply, “if you would take me to the King?”

Okoye gestures with her hand, and the pilot tugs on Erik’s chains, pulling him back to the jet. Once they have left and the workshop has been resealed, Okoye motions for Tony to follow - and he does dutifully, feels a bit like an errant puppy.

Just as he’s leaving though, he turns to Shuri, “if I end up staying,” he starts haltingly, “Once I’ve talked to T’Challa and ironed out the kinks, I’d be happy to look over the nanotech for you. It’d be my honour.”

Shuri smiles at him, and he thinks she’s going to say something, but Okoye clears her throat and starts walking more purposefully; leaving Tony having to hurry behind her to catch up.

**Author's Note:**

> there's going to be more of this, but i don't know how or when.  
> [i'm also on tumblr](https://ad1thi.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
